Avengers: (Re)Assembled
by MrsTater
Summary: Somehow, Tony Stark has kept Phil Coulson's secret, but with more superpowered individuals coming out of the woodworks, a chance encounter between the Avengers and SHIELD is inevitable. This is the story of how Coulson burst back into the Avengers' world. [co-authored with malintzin]


_A/N: Although this fic follows our chaptered fic,_ Cleaning Up the Mess _, all you really need to know about that one is that Pepper and Coulson meet by accident in Johannesburg when both are dealing with the aftermath of Hulk's attack, leading to his eventual reunion with the Cellist, Audrey Nathan. (And of course, with Tony. ;)) You don't have to read that one to enjoy this, but of course we'd love it if you do!_

* * *

 **Natasha Romanoff**

"Damn it," Natasha said, pulling up short in the alley where her chase had led her, panting as she scanned the shadows.

"Lose her?" Clint's voice crackled in her earpiece.

"Like she disappeared into thin air." She drew her sidearm. "Have I mentioned I really hate chasing enhanced people?" Especially enhanced people whose abilities were camoflage.

"And here I was gonna say this is just like the good old days."

"Spoken like a true old person. You got eyes out there?"

"Lemme just put on my bifocals. Yep. Just came out on the roof."

How in the…? Natasha lept onto the fire escape and scrambled up, the old rusty metal protesting beneath her weight. "She can't have gone up this way, I would've heard her. Did she jump?"

They'd encountered enhanced who could. Or maybe she was just thinking about how the Big Guy leapt tall buildings in single bounds.

"She's on the wall now," Clint's voice thankfully brought her back into focus. "Like climbing right up the side. I got you, Lizard Lady."

Natasha pictured him crouched on the rooftop, their quarry caught in his crosshairs. "Almost to the top."

Her feet slipped off the rung of the ladder, hands slid down the railings as the apartment building quaked. Static crackled in her ear from the interference of the low rumbling thunder, but enough of Clint's curses broke through that she gathered he'd missed his target. Natasha clamped down on the rails and found purchase with her feet.

"I didn't think Thor was on this one," she said, hoisting herself back up.

At the roofline, she stared into the barrel of a gun.

"He's not," said a voice Natasha hadn't heard in three years, and never thought she would again. "SHIELD is. That was Agent Johnson."

She blinked up in disbelief at the familiar face as he pulled off his Ray-bans. She couldn't be hallucinating. He wasn't wearing his trademark suit and tie, but the silhouette, the gestures, the voice...

"Coulson?"

" _Coulson?_ " Clint echoed over the comms.

"Hello, Natasha. This isn't exactly how I envisioned meeting again."

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly envision meeting again at all." _Was_ she meeting him again? Or was this some trick of the camouflaged girl who could climb up walls?

"Nat, what the _hell_ is going on down there?"

"I think I know where Fury got that helicarrier for us in Sokovia," Natasha said as he Coulson stepped back to let her get up on the roof. "Other than that, I'm as confused as you. Care to explain, Agent Coulson?"

"It's Director now. And I will, as soon as you and Barton agree to stop chasing my Inhuman. This is SHIELD's jurisdiction, not the Avengers'."

" _Inhuman_?" Natasha parroted, feeling uncharacteristically off balance, out of the loop, left behind, which was the worst that could happen to a spy. " _Director_?"

Then, Coulson had to smile, in that typically self-deprecating way of his, the lines round the corners of his eyes adding warmth to the ever mischievous eyes.

She shook her head disbelievingly. Fury was even more of a bastard than they gave him credit for. What on earth had he done? Somehow, Natasha didn't care to dig further.

Phil Coulson was alive.

But they were on opposite teams this time. Another rumble resounded, in Clint's direction.

"Shit!" he exclaimed in her ear. "Is the whole building gonna collapse or what?"

Calmly, as if this was a common occurrence-as if a hyperlocalized quake in the middle of freaking Montreal could be such a thing-Coulson talked into his own com. "Sk- Daisy? Could you stop shaking the building like a coconut tree, please?" After a muffled reply that made him grin harder, this unnerving cheeky grin of his, he extended a gloved hand. "Can I have word with Barton?"

Natasha put her hand to her ear, but hesitated to remove the comm link. "You were his SO. He took it pretty hard when he found out Loki killed you while he was under mind control. This really how you want to break it to him?"

The smile froze instantly.

"No, but I suppose that's slightly less terrible than the very present situation…"

Another call on his com distracted for a moment. All Natasha could hear was his end of whatever conversation he had. "You got her, Mack? Good. Hunter? Daisy? Move out."

Unexpectedly, Natasha felt her throat constrict and she bit her lip. She wasn't this kind of woman. She definitely wasn't. But those sharp orders told in that precise, always polite tone took her back years before… Before Loki and the Chitauri changed everything.

"Natasha? Can I talk to Barton, please?"

She barely heard him. "Clint? About this seeming just like the old days...Things are about to feel a whole lot more like that."

She missed his reply as she took out the earpiece and handed it over to Coulson.

-/-

 **Cling Barton**

Clint's knuckles hurt. Badly. But not as much as Coulson's jaw, he hoped. Damn the man. Three fucking years of silence. _Bastard_.

For months after the Battle of New York, Clint had suffered from endless nightmares, from which he woke up covered in sweat. In fact those weren't nightmares, but memories… Of attacking Natasha, trying to kill her. Of actively helping Loki, telling him about the helicarrier's weaknesses, about the agents that wouldn't fall for his plan.

The agents that Loki needed to get rid of quickly if he wanted to succeed.

Three years of ravaging guilt, of knowing deep down that the intel he gave Loki was the true cause of Coulson's demise… for nothing. Wincing, Clint tested his fingers tentatively, checking for a strained joint.

"Took you long enough to get out of your cave," he grumbled.

 _Bastard_. He'd barely been able to wait till they were aboard the quinjet before he punched him.

"But you knew I was in one," Coulson said, rubbing his jaw as he lowered himself into one of the seats. The young agent-Daisy, Skye, whatever the hell her name was, the earthquake girl-knew her way around a plane and came over with a cold compress. "What gave me away?"

"Don't worry, it wasn't obvious to everyone. Romanoff didn't figure it out."

"I sniffed something foul in the state of Denmark," she protested. "Hill deliberately threw me off the scent."

Clint had to smirk at her annoyance, but he said, "Just hints here and there. Fury going off the grid. Maria's intel. The assault on your lady friend." Clint narrowed his eyes at Coulson, studying his reaction at this latest allusion. but the senior agent-turned-director gave him nothing, his poker face well in place. "I did the math."

"How are Laura and the kids?" Coulson asked as if they last met three months ago. Or was it a way to derail the conversation away from personal matters? He was a master at this, making the others talk while revealing very little himself. A living nightmare for SHIELD shrinks when came the time of annual psych evaluations.

"Rumor has it that there was a new addition recently?"

Three years in a cave, but always on top of things, it seemed.

"Nathaniel Pietro," Clint replied, smiling in spite of himself, unable to maintain the sour expression longer as relief crept its way through the veil of anger. "He's a bruiser. You can meet him, when you come to help me take down the dining room wall."

No conditions. Of course Clint would make him pay, drown him in sawdust. And endless sports sessions on TV, trashing Coulson's favorite teams. Even babysitting duty while he and Laura would take much-needed breaks.

Then, maybe, he could forgive.

"I can't wait to see what you've done with Laura's study."

That had been Clint's project three years ago. Coulson and his cellist girlfriend Audrey had spent a week at the Bartons' farm, just before the start of the project PEGASUS.

Those had been good times.

"She's waited a while to show you," Clint replied. "You may have to do a little groveling before she will now."

"Wow," said Agent Johnson. "Are you sure you guys are Avengers and not _Re_ vengers?"

Coulson, the sneaky bastard, jumped on the occasion to change the topic. "Address your complaints to Fury. He chose the name of the project."

The pair got up to join their own team and do whatever needed to be done with this _Pauline Grandville_ who'd suddenly woken up with the skin of a chameleon and claws on her feet and hands, and decided that a career change from harmless accountant to apprentice burglar was in order.

"The name of our group isn't the only thing I want to complain about to Fury right now," Natasha said from the cockpit.

"If only Fury actually took anyone's complaints into consideration," Clint grumbled.

Coulson snorted. "Not even my complaints, Barton. Even when they're about matters of death and being brought back to life."

"You won't get away like that, _Director_ ," Clint opened the hatch of the quinjet. "See you soon, I suppose? If you deign to give us mere mortals some intel about those _Inhumans_?"

"Sure."

Clint shook the offered hand. It was warm and strong. It felt good.

-/-

 **Steve Rogers**

Steve gritted his teeth as the Avengers, old and new, progressively gathered in the conference room. The Vision and Scarlet were still to arrive from their latest mission in Japan, where another of those _Inhumans_ had appeared suddenly. Rhodey and Sam commented on the latest NBA results and stats while they waited patiently, obviously not really disturbed by the reason behind the meeting.

True soldiers, used to suits' shenanigans.

He knew he should be as detached as his companions were. He knew it, but he couldn't see past a deep sense of betrayal. Fury had hidden the truth once more. He had played with the most basic rules of life and death.

It was disgusting. And wrong.

And unfair.

Why agent Coulson and not another agent? Why this single man and not thousands of them?

The whole thing left a bitter, foul taste in his mouth.

What would Peggy think about it? What would she have to say about seeing the organization she created passed on like some kingdom from a man to his appointed heir?

Things should not work like that.

Natasha strode in next, eyes meeting his across the length of the conference table as she pressed her phone to her ear.

"I'm impressed you actually kept your mouth shut about something this big," he heard her say, so he guessed she must be talking to Stark. "Not that I appreciate being left to find out from the other end of a gun that Coulson's alive….No, he's not here yet...No, I won't give him your love…I'm not your PA anymore."

Steve rolled his eyes; it was good that one of them had a tolerance for Stark. "I guess that means he isn't going to grace us with his presence?" he asked as she disconnected her call and lay her phone on the glossy table in front of her.

"Look at the bright side," Natasha said, taking her seat. "You'll be able to make your speeches without interruption."

"I don't make speeches-"

Natasha's eyebrow hitched higher.

"When you stand up and say a lot of words to people at one time," Sam said, "those are called speeches."

"They're very rousing," Rhodes added.

"And that's why you should be very glad Stark isn't attending this meeting," Natasha said.

Yes, Steve could just imagine what kinds of jokes would follow the word _rousing_.

"Next time Stark's giving you hell, just threaten to blow Pepper's Lalique collection to pieces. Works all the time."

Steve turned around to greet the resurrected man who had just walked into the conference room along with Fury and Barton, not without noticing the warmth of Romanoff's smile. The former director wore his usual aloof expression while Barton's features hesitated between a frown and an amused grin.

"That's my Coulson," Natasha replied as she got up from her chair. "But I don't remember you giving me this piece of precious intel when you sent me into the gargoyle's cave."

Coulson's bright blue eyes shone with mischief as he spoke. "Miss Potts' role in Stark's life hadn't… evolved yet."

Now, that was a feature Steve remembered about the agent, his ability to make a joke in the most serious situation, and his easy, slightly puzzling companionship with the Black Widow. He felt as much an outsider now as he did when he met Agent Coulson for the first time; then he'd at least been in good company, Dr. Banner being as uncertain about SHIELD and the Avengers Initiative as he was. Now, as he watched Coulson interact with the new Avengers, Sam and Rhodes, then Vision and Scarlet when they finally arrived, he noted how seemingly unbothered they were by the fact that the new Director had, for the past three years, been presumed dead. No. Not _presumed_ dead. He _was_ dead. And had been brought back to life. Maybe in their minds, it wasn't all that different than being frozen in ice for almost seventy years and thawed out. Or maybe the immediacy of this situation with the Inhumans simply took precedence.

He cleared his throat. "If we're all assembled, let's get started, shall we? I don't have any speeches planned…" He glanced at Natasha, who wore her lopsided grin. "...so I'll give the floor to Director Coulson and let him bring us up to speed about these enhanced people we've been encountering."

Coulson gave him a curious, tentative look as everybody settled in their chairs before turning to the female agent by his side. They exchanged a few words and the young woman, almost a girl, started an holographic presentation.

"Well, Captain Rogers," Coulson began, "if we refer to SHIELD's old model, we should speak about _gifted_ people. Enhanced would be you, or Colonel Rhodes, or me." He raised his mechanical left hand, the one Stark built for him and Dr. Cho installed in these very premises, without the Avengers' knowledge. "The _Inhumans_ , as they call themselves, would be gifted, in the sense that their powers are inherent to them, triggered in a very precise context."

This precise and concise speech, this consummate professionalism, those were features Steve remembered well now. Before Loki's attack on the helicarrier, between two awkward moments, agent Coulson had appeared to be a very competent man, listened by his subordinates, trusted in by his superiors. Back in the present, in this room, Barton and Romanoff followed his speech attentively, and Fury watched his pawn with… pride and fondness?

"Now I'll let Agent Johnson explain the details."

Agent Johnson, as it so happened, was herself an Inhuman. This did not in itself unsettle Steve, but as she explained what had triggered her powers-the ability to cause tremors, to create earthquakes powerful enough to level entire forests, or cities-he became increasingly agitated, unable to sit still in his chair, crossing and uncrossing his arms. His heart pounded so loudly that he ceased to hear the young woman's explanation about some sort of crystals. The only thing that stuck in his brain was that this had SHIELD written all over it. SHIELD meddling in things even its brilliant scientists didn't-or couldn't-fully understand. SHIELD acting without any accountability. SHIELD failing to stop weapons-in this case human weapons-falling into the wrong hands. Not that SHIELD's hands were the right ones.

His gaze settled on Coulson's prosthetic hand, encased in a glove, folded together with his real one. An illusion that all was normal. That all was above board.

He couldn't sit here silently absorbing all of this without question any longer.

"When were you going to tell us all of this?" he interrupted. "I don't just mean the Inhumans. I mean the helicarrier in Sokovia. And you, Coulson. Would you ever, if Pepper Potts hadn't found you in Johannesburg?"

Agent Johnson shot a less than benevolent look at him, but a calming hand on her forearm stopped her as she opened her mouth to reply.

"Do you realize that Hydra is still out there, Captain? Do you think that you were alone chasing after them these past months?"

For the first time since the meeting began, Fury spoke, his voice beyond cold.

"And before you start another _rousing speech_ , yes, we were blinded by Hydra, and let them grow right under our nose. My question is, Captain, would you have been so clairvoyant in our shoes? Growing up at a time the main enemy was called _Leviathan_? Growing up in a world in which it is more and more difficult to distinguish right from wrong?"

Fury got up slowly, hands on the table in front of him.

"Would you be so sure of yourself if the war you distinguished yourself in was Vietnam and not World War Two?"

"Now hold up just a minute," Barton thankfully intervened before Steve exploded at Fury. "I'm as loyal to SHIELD-to _real_ SHIELD-as anyone, but even I won't go so far as to say I'm good with the way everything's operated. We're hearing all this stuff about alien crystals, but you still haven't told us how Coulson's alive, or why you kept it from us all this time. SHIELD went to hell, and you didn't trust Romanoff and me? You didn't need us?"

Steve observed the directors, the old and the new, as they shared a look. A long look. For the first time, he realized that these two guys went back a long, long way.

At last, Coulson turned to Barton.

"One question at the time. There are three problems here, and contrary to what you're thinking, the answers are very different."

The man sighed heavily, licking his lips, obviously ill-at-ease.

"Let's deal with the _personal_ questions for once and for all. My _resurrection_ was hidden for several reasons. First." Coulson raised one finger in the air. "This was a secret project dating back from 2010, whose goal was to revive a mortally wounded Avenger. _I_ closed the project, and it was re-opened without my knowledge, obviously. Second."

He raised another finger.

"I was in a comatose state for around a year, then my condition was monitored, _in case_. Not a great moment to disclose my living status, especially when I displayed self-destructive tendencies and other compulsions. Besides, even the woman sharing my life before I died remained in the dark, and if I'm not mistake, I'm the one having to deal with alien blood in his system, so I think I've a say in the way I disclose my existence. Third."

Another finger.

"Hydra happened. Which leads us to our next problem."

From across the room, Steve could see that the hand without a glove whitened around the joints, in an obvious effort at self-control.

"After SHIELD fell, you were in the public eye, and we were basically outlaws. Can you seriously believe you would have been able to move and act as you did if our _association_ had become public knowledge? If Hydra had caught wind of it?"

Natasha always told him that he might be throwing out the baby with the bathwater when it came to SHIELD, but whenever Steve witnessed the things they did, his conviction that the organization needed to change became stronger and stronger. Like this whole disturbing trend of faking death, or bringing people back to life but not telling the people it would benefit to know. It was just getting old. And, in spite of all Coulson's qualities, Steve couldn't shake the notion that having Fury's literal spiritual son as the new boss wouldn't change many things. The man had managed to rebuild a damn helicarrier under the nose of the US government and Hydra. Talk about a secretmaster succeeding another secretmaster.

"It doesn't matter," he replied stubbornly. "All I'm saying that now is the time for transparency."

By his side, Natasha held back a snort, unable to stop the corner of her mouth twitching at his last words. Was he so repetitive?

Coulson sighed heavily from his end of the room, and Agent Johnson stepped up beside him.

"Captain Rogers," she said, "I don't want to assume anything, but this must feel like a betrayal to you. But you're not the only one." She looked to Natasha and Clint. "Grant Ward-he was on our team. Guess whose side he was really on."

The young agent closed her eyes and took a steadying breath under her boss' concerned gaze. In spite of his anger, Steve couldn't help but feel empathetic. How many times had Natasha said that _they_ , the people who worked for SHIELD, who believed in it, were the ones who suffered the most?

 _You're an outsider, Steve. You fought with us for a few months. We were betrayed by people we considered our friends._

"How would you feel if one of your _Howling Commandos_ had been a traitor? One of their grandsons fought and lived with us, a great man, and he died… because of Hydra, for SHIELD ideals."

"Speaking of which, we have people who wake up one day and discover they basically are what the world usually calls _monsters_ ," Coulson interrupted, coming back to their main topic. "Some will be rejected. Some will take advantage of the situation. All are lost. We're SHIELD, we swore an oath. What do we do about them?"

The finality in his tone indicated that the digression was over.

Steve didn't disagree that it was time to get back on task, but for the rest of the meeting, he felt wrong-footed, as he always had on the dance floor. Barton seemed to see things from his perspective, which he was grateful for, though it was jarring that Romanoff didn't. She was just glad to have her former colleague back. A voice whispered in the back of his mind that wouldn't he feel the same way when they found Bucky, be willing to overlook dubious means if necessary? Emotional attachments aside, Romanoff had been trained to accept protocols, not to expect full disclosure. Exposing the rot in SHIELD hadn't been an easy decision for her.

He looked around the table at his fledgling team. He'd be damned if he let that same rot grow and infect the Avengers.

-/-

 **Thor Odinson**

In Asgard, Thor sat with his proud shoulders hunched, staring into his flagon as if he were peering into the Well of Urd for the runes which would reveal to him the wisdom of all life. He had yet to drink a drop of mead, unlike his companions, who were well into their cups. Including Sif, whose gaze he felt from across the table. In his periphery, he saw her raise her flagon, tilt back her head to drain it, heard the clunk of it against the table as she placed it down, empty.

"Thor. There is something I wish to tell you."

The sound of his old companion's voice was… distant, and not just because of the joyous celebration in the tavern and Volstagg's roaring laugh. The scene was oddly familiar, uncomfortably familiar even. Flashes of his nightmare came back to him, Heimdal's blind eyes more haunting as ever.

The bitter taste of failure did not leave his mouth, and no amount of ale could wash it away. They had won a magnificent, glorious battle on Earth, but he could not celebrate this deed like he used to. How could he drink to his own victory when he caused the battle in the first place? Because of their quest for Loki's scepter, because of their carelessness, because of Loki's betrayal in the first place, because of Asgard, Earth had been threatened not once, not twice, but _thrice_. What was the point of proclaiming himself Guardian of the Nine Realms if he only won battles he'd d provoked in the first place?

He said he wanted to protect the place where Jane lived, but was that really what he had been doing for the past months?

Thor lifted his eyes wearily, blinking at his friend. What could she mean? For a moment, he saw her hesitate, wearing an expression he had rarely witnessed on the always brave and assured Lady Sif. Soon, though, the expression of hesitation disappeared, and her feature displayed her traditional resolve once again.

"Your brother…" She paused, watching his face pull into a scowl. "It would seem Loki did not wreak so much chaos in Midgard as we imagined."

 _Loki..._

Sif's insistent voice sounded clearer now. What did she want? His eyes focused on her at last, and he noticed that her heart was not in the celebration as much as he expected. Once upon a time, the five of them, and Loki, would spend days roaming from tavern to tavern, celebrating their latest mighty deeds.

Those were good times.

Thor tasted the ale in front of him for the first time that evening.

"What about Midgard, Sif?" he asked softly, smiling as nostalgia crept over him. The only mention of Earth brought him back to Jane's apartment in London. Had he really thought that such a quiet life would last? "I heard you'd grown quite attached to the humans during your most recent missions…" he teased, encouraging her to tell whatever she wanted to reveal.

"Me? Attached to anyone at all, least of all mere mortals?" Sif joined in the banter. "I do begin to understand why you are. In fact I have become rather well acquainted with someone you once knew. Someone you thought was lost, but who has been saved by some art...what they call science, or we call magic, or perhaps both."

Thor stared at his companion with a dumbfounded expression. What could she mean? He had grown attached to the humans as a whole, but only knew a handful of them. Jane, of course, and Erik Selvig, and Darcy were dear to his heart. The Avengers were good companions, all, brave and honest people, even when misguided…

The one-eyed man, though, he remained wary of. Fury was a good man definitely, with good intentions. Yet, Thor could not shake the feeling that his mind often worked like Loki's, secretive and twisted. In spite of it all, the man was courageous, and knew to surround himself with brave and honest people, this Maria Hill, the Son of Coul…

Thor froze.

It couldn't be. It just couldn't be.

"I tell you truly," said Sif. "Phil Son of Coul lives. Loki's scepter tore his heart in two, but I have seen him with my own eyes, heard him speak with my own ears, and spoken to him in return."

Once again, Sif's voice was distant, but for another reason entirely. Her gentle expression told it all, and he did not need to hear her words. He could see the truth in her eyes-along with something else. Admiration, respect, fondness… Thor let a smile form on his lips.

 _With the help of some old friends._

These had been the one-eyed man's words when he had appeared from nowhere with the helicarrier and saved the people from Sokovia. Thor did not know Fury that well, but he could tell that the people he called friends had to be very few.

His smile froze.

Flashes of a grim day after the battle of New York came back to him. A cemetery in Washington. Closed and pained expressions. Barton. Romanoff. Hill. People he did not know. The tears of a woman who could barely stand. Erik Selvig's distress. Stark and his woman looking devastated.

And this terrible look of guilt on Fury's face.

Then, Thor had thought it was the look of a man who thought he had failed his comrade.

 _What had he done?_

Thor abruptly stood up. He needed to be on his way.

-/-

 **Audrey Nathan**

Tony Stark knew how to throw a party, that was a certainty. And he could surely hold a grudge for the longest time, expressing it in the pettiest ways. Audrey sipped some extravagant cocktail, the name of which name she couldn't remember, as she watched Phil in the place he hated most:

The center of attention.

For a man who made a living saving the world on a daily basis, it was quite ironic. Knowing that, Tony had made sure that everybody connected more or less closely to the Avengers and the reborn SHIELD would be here to celebrate a _resurrection_. If you excepted some noticeable absences-from what she heard from Phil, Captain America wasn't too happy with the implications behind said resurrection, Barton either. To be honest, Audrey wasn't sure that she was entirely comfortable herself, especially with the secret thing, but as far as she was concerned, the result outweighed everything.

 _Phil was alive_.

And a quick look around the room revealed that many people thought that way as well.

 _Fury. Tony and Pepper. Agent Romanoff… May and Andrew… Phil's team who looked around with stars in their eyes..._

"So Romanoff was telling me about her little run-in with you the other day," Tony said, "and I looked up some satellite footage-Veronica does a little surveillance on the side, you know, but anyway-and I just have to ask, _Phil_...when did SHIELD start contracting with Willy Wonka?"

Audrey watched Phil rub his forehead. "I don't want to ask," he said in the longsuffering tone that accompanied his conversations with Tony, "but I have to."

Tony sipped his drink with what could only be described as a shit-eating grin. "Your extraction pod thing has this whole Great Glass Elevator aesthetic going on. Honestly, I'd expect better from the man who scrapped together a helicarrier on a whim, but then again, style was never exactly your strong _suit_ , was it? I did take the liberty of mocking up a couple of redesigns for you…"

"Of course you did," Phil muttered, and Audrey took another sip of her drink to refrain from laughing at how Tony never failed to wind him up. She watched his eyes scan the room for an escape route in the form of other guests. They locked on someone, and she turned to see over six feet of disheveled Scandinavian tripping over his own feet as he approached.

"Well this is rather wonderful," said Dr. Erik Selvig as he made a beeline to the group gathered around Phil and Tony. "Thank God for science, eh?"

He clasped Phil's hand, shaking it with both of his own to the point she could see her boyfriend wince. The scientist apparently decided a handshake was much too formal and impersonal for such an occasion and pulled Phil in for a hug. Audrey smiled at the scene. It was falling from Charybdis to Scylla. If there was something Phil was more uncomfortable with than being at the center of attention, it was those very public displays of physical affection. Hearing a light snort by her side, Audrey turned around and shared an amused look with Daisy who kept on sipping her own cocktail. The young woman had mellowed him a bit on that front, but not that much.

"I was delighted when Agent Barton phoned with the news," Selvig went on as he crushed Phil to him.

"Not me," piped a female voice from behind him. "I will never let go of my grudge about my iPod."

Audrey watched Phil freeze in Selvig's embrace, looking as if he were debating for a moment whether he wanted to leave it, before he did finally extract himself, with some difficulty, from the bear of a man. From the depths of her mind came a memory of Phil being raked through the coals by a woman over a confiscated iPod.

"Hi, Darcy," Phil said. "What if I got you an Apple Music subscription? Would that convince you ever to forgive me?"

She tilted her head, the lights reflecting off the lenses of her glasses as she considered the proposition.

"Darcy!" hissed another young brunette. "Agent Coulson let us think he was dead for years, and you're going to let him buy your forgiveness with a music subscription?"

"Maybe," Darcy replied.

Audrey knew she shouldn't laugh, but watching Phil, who could remain so unflappable facing the worst danger, being so defenseless facing the rightful ire of the young women was… hilarious. She had forgiven his absence and silence, of course, but it didn't mean that she couldn't enjoy some pettiness directed at him from the sidelines.

Maybe it would teach him a lesson or two, like thinking before acting stupidly, at the cost of a limb, or his life. Maybe realizing that _his_ life wasn't the only one he sacrificed would do him some good, at last.

"Dr. Foster," Phil said, extending his hand in a pacifying gesture. "Can I offer my belated congratulations for your Prize?"

Audrey shook her head as she noticed the glimmer in the Nobel Prize-winning scientist's eyes. _Flattery won't lead you anywhere with that one, Phil…_ Maybe it was time to go and help him, a bit.

"Dr. Foster," she said, extending her hand. "It's an honor to finally meet you. I'm Audrey Nathan. Phil's girlfriend. I always thought there was more to his adventures in New Mexico than he told me. But I never knew iPods were Classified."

As Jane shook her hand, some of the anger seemed to leave her, and then the other girl pushed around her.

"Darcy Lewis, and _Phil_ here's just full of surprises, isn't he?"

A crash of lightning out the wall of windows turned everyone's heads. as a caped figure hurtled through the sky.

"Hint," said Tony in the general silence. "That's _not_ Superman."

"Don't I know that…" Phil shot an annoyed look at the billionaire. "Now, I thought Thor had gone back to Asgard after…" Even if he hid it well, Audrey could hear the hint of worry in his voice.

She had to admit that she wasn't too assured herself. Asgardians arriving abruptly on Earth wasn't exactly good news.

For most people, and not for Jane Foster, who rushed outside.

"Obviously he did," Tony said, squinting; Audrey followed suit and discerned there was not just _one_ god descending to earth, "unless he swung by ComicCon and picked up a cosplayer."

"That would be Lady Sif," Phil replied, taking Audrey's hand and pulling her toward the doors that led to the landing bay, which ane had exited. "I take it you haven't met her yet?"

"Forgive me," Sif said, as she straightened up to full height. "I meant not to betray your secret, but Thor-"

-had caught Phil in a fearsome embrace.

"Now that's sweet," Tony said, taking out his phone to snap a picture. "Or else...Is Thor hugging Phil, or crushing him to death? Because we just found out he wasn't dead, and we'd kinda like him to stay that way. Tony Stark," he added, extending a hand to the Asgardian woman. "Do _all_ of you people like to hug, by chance?"

Audrey glanced around to see if Pepper had come out to witness _that_ exchange.

Thor-who really was as _dreamy_ as May and Daisy had said repeatedly-took a step back, his hands still on Phil's shoulders and considered him for a long moment, as if to discern whether this was really the same man he'd met in the desert years ago.

"Son of Coul," he said at length, his voice thunderously sincere, rich with emotion. "I am glad you have defied the realm of death. This is a deed worthy of eternal songs."

"I'm glad to meet you again, Thor," he said, looking even more ridiculous between the giants' big hands than he had in Selvig's bear hug.

"It appears you have performed more worthy deeds than defying death since last I saw you, Son of Coul," said Sif, her eyes resting on his arm.

Phil rubbed the prosthesis self-consciously.

"About that-if you aren't a hurry to return to Asgard immediately, I would be very honored to take you to the Playground so that we have a little talk."

Phil couldn't help it, always thinking about SHIELD. At times, the organization was worse than a demanding mistress in Audrey's eyes.

At the same time, she wouldn't love him as much if he were the tiniest bit different.

"We can find time, Son of Coul," Thor answered first with a big smile. "Today is a day of rejoicing and songs."

"You'll have to be sure to include that in your eternal songs," said Tony. "Son of Coul, Defier of Death and Wearer of the Arm of Bionic."

 _The End_


End file.
